Matchmaker
by Threnody2
Summary: Harley Quinn decides Batman and Catwoman make a cute couple... with some psychobabble for good measure. R/R. Not incredibly funny...


"Oh why don't you shut up __

I own nothing but my tortured soul. And a PC. And a modem. Everything else is DC's.

Harley Quinn's POV.

Constructive criticism etc.

****

Matchmaker

by Threnody

"Oh why don't you shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"No, you shut up!"

"No way! You shut up!"

"You shu-"

"Both of you shut up!"

The last one was me. Well, I suppose it was all me, because I was talkin' to myself. Or, not to myself, but to my conscience (Harleen- me in a science-like white coat & glasses) and my, uh, _mischievous_ side (my Puddin', bless 'im). I'm a psychiatrist, I know about this kind of thing.

Thing is, they c'n both shout as loud as they like, 'cos I'm the only one who c'n hear 'em. So I had to use a loud whisper. I've got to be real quiet at the moment; I'm in the Gotham History Museum (I'm not exactly low on cash, but I don't want to be, put it that way).

So anyway, they were arguing because I, as usual, got sidetracked from my original, uh, mission. Y'see, I was wanderin' around, getting past all the security stuff no problem, an' I thought I'd go look in the Egyptian area.

The security there is a lot tighter because they have some stuff made out of gold and some stuff made out of dead cats. The dead cats are worth more, which Puddin' always said was a reflection on society today. Insightful, is my Puddin'.

So, I noticed that I wasn't havin' any hassle getting into the Mummy room ("It was the virgin room until they moved the Daddy room next door!"- One o' Puddin's. Nix & Kenny say it's not funny, which shows how much _they_ know) because someone else had been in before me, & disabled all the alarms and stuff. Knew what they were doing, too. It was all wired so it could be re-wired, so the museum only finds out the stuff is gone when they see it's not there! Puddin' loved crimes like that.

So, I crept in, and who did I spy but the Bid Bad Bat, larger 'n' life 'n' twice as tall, creepin' himself after the sneaky wotsit that was trying to get at the mummified cats or, to be exact, their sarcophagi (Latin, see?) with gold cats' heads and turquoise eyes.

He said somethin' big 'n' macho, just to get Catwoman's attention, then she started the flirty thing. She's a role model for that, y'know. You ever see some super-villainess (or superheroine, even) flirting with some hero (or villain) KittyKat's where they got it from.

Then the fight started, and it was just as he was twisting her arm up her back that I thought they'd make a cute couple. It was when she got him a left hook to the jaw that I said to myself, "Harley," I said, "Harley, they need to get together, and you're just the gal to help 'em do it. So get off your tush and play cupid, like you do so well." That was me talkin'. It's not Harleen, 'cos it's a naughty thing to do, and it's not Puddin', 'cos it's helpin' people- like charity work, really. So it's just me.

So here I am, on a rooftop, hidin' behind a chimney. I got li'l notes to them both, tellin' them to meet here. They both knew it was a trap, of course, but when they saw each other here, lookin' confused as each other felt, they just _had_ to come an' offer assistance to the other party. Cute, huh?

They were talkin' for ages about who might've sent the notes. My name probably came up, but I know Bats doesn't rate me too highly on the psychotic maniac scale (headed by Mistah J, obviously).

They were discussing the practical, boring side of it for ages when the bat-signal went off, illuminatin' the clouds and casting the moonlit city in a harsh yellow glow (I'm a poet at heart) and Bats said (I'll not forget this):

"Town hall roof midnight tomorrow. Don't be late."

Which is practically asking her out, right?

So he disappears in a swirl of darkness, like y' do, leaving our Pretty Pussy alone on a cold roof with only the li'l scrap o' paper to remember her Dark Knight by. Why does nobody pay me for this stuff?

Now, I may have my daft moments, but I knew better than to get too close to the Town Hall the next night, 'cos Batman ain't no fool and will have guessed he was being… monitored; that's the technical word for it. Also, he might have made completely different plans with her afterwards, crafty thing that he is.

So, first thing was to check they were actually there (this is an hour beforehand) and then find a good hiding place where I'll know if he comes. Last thing I need is them findin' out it's me- I've already got a bit of a rep for playing Emma, and if anythin', they'll start avoidin' each other because they'll know they were set up. But that's not the best way o' puttin' it- it was a match made upstairs- I'm just the only one that sees it.

They come, they don't see me, they start talkin' again. Then SweeterThanKitKat looks up- and straight at yours truly- eyes borin' into mah verra soul. Kewl.

Next thing I know, I'm racin' across th' rooftops in a flurry of fear pursued by a prissy pussy an' a pack o' pecs announcing some accurate alliteration…

"Stop!" Harleen cries, "Give yourself up! You haven't done anything wrong! Just explain to them, and they'll understand how they should be together!"

"Ah, c'mon, Quinn!" Puddin's holdin' on with all his strength to one of the funny jester spike things on my mask. I grab him and put him on the other shoulder, "How stupid are you? Mebbe you've been a good li'l clowness this time, but the Bat's got a big list o' why he's not lettin' you get away!"

As usual, Puddin's advice makes a lot more sense when I'm hurtlin' across the Gotham skyline chased by a woman with a whip 'n' a catsuit and a man with his underwear the wrong side o' his tights.

So here I am, slippers, dressing gown, wet hair in towel & all, snug as a bug in a rug with a pair of hyenas, drinkin' hot cocoa an' watchin' Batman and Catwoman makin' out on the roof next to mine. It's sweet until Batman's hand goes somewhere a couple o' innocent hyenas shouldn't know exists, and the blinds go down.

All in all an' accounted for ship-shape an' Bristol fashion, not a bad week. Took a while for our happy couple to stop runnin' after the clown and start runnin' after each other. Ain't it always the way. 'Course, I picked up on the chemistry between me an' Mistah J long before he did, but he'll get it some day. An' when he does, we'll be the anti-Bonnie&Clyde we will, my Puddin' an' me.

Till then, I have plans.

Superman looks _so_ sweet with Lois Lane…

END


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